Breaking our Flow
by miladyswords
Summary: This feeling that has bubbled up in my chest, that threatens to gurgle out every time I speak, every time I look at her, I just can't take it anymore. She has to know. I have to tell her. 'Remember, inhale and exhale' the voice inside my head says. Well, at least my fingers have finally stopped twitching.
1. Breaking Our Flow

**Hey everyone. I've rewritten the first chapter of this fic as I've decided to move forward and update it. Second chapter is pretty much almost finished so that will be coming soon. In this chapter Arnold will be singing, and as I've heard we cannot post song lyrics, when he does, please listen to Imogen Heap's "It's good to be in Love" which inspired this fic.**

I can feel the sweat pouring down my face as we prepare for the last number of the night. Taking out my lucky pink handkerchief, I try for the umpteenth time to wipe it away. It isn't just the stage lights that are causing the perspiration on my forehead, upper lip, sideburns and pretty much everywhere else on my body; it's my nerves.

Could I do this? Yes, it's true that I have successfully taught them the melody and the beat, but the words; those would be a surprise to everyone. I wrote them for her, or rather for me. This feeling that has bubbled up in my chest, that threatens to gurgle out every time I speak, every time I look at her, I just can't take it anymore. She has to know, which means I have to 'man up' and just tell her. 'Remember, inhale and exhale' the voice inside my head says. 'Well', I think to myself, 'at least my fingers have finally stopped twitching'.

The crowd is large today, evidence of the following we've been building up on campus, and while on other days this would excite me beyond belief, it doesn't help the butterflies in my stomach, the lump in my throat, and this insufferable perspiration. I unstrap my guitar, pull off my plaid shirt and tie it around my waist before re-strapping it across my chest. Gerald must've done a great job entertaining them during the short break because they're pumped. Their cheers are deafening and I briefly wonder what urban legend he wowed them with this time. But it's hard to focus on anything knowing I'm about to pour my guts out to the woman I've been in love with since before I even knew what love was. My mind is wandering again, as are my eyes - although they don't need to look for her. They'd found her a while ago; when she first walked in, an hour and a half late.

In all honesty, I wasn't surprised she'd turned up so late, but I couldn't help feeling disappointed. She used to come early enough to help us set up. I mean, as former member of the band and ghostwriter for most of our songs, she had been pretty invested in our success up until a few months ago when things started to change. Thinking about these past few months, I struggle to smile as I take my place in front of the microphone. I miss her, a lot.

And it's not just her physical presence that I miss. When I first caught sight of her striding through the door I almost choked on my own saliva mid-song, which would have been a disaster if Phoebe and Lila weren't such great back-up vocalists. She is in entirely different attire tonight and it's pretty obvious what took her so long. The black body-con dress may be one of the many new additions to her wardrobe - I've certainly never seen it before –but it almost feels symbolic of her recent transformation. Don't get me wrong, Helga has always been gorgeous, well not always, but she's certainly never needed a dress and make up to show off her beauty. God how I hope she knows that.

From the corner of my eye I see some creep striding confidently towards her and I feel a different kind of heat rising in my chest. Jealousy. I gotta admit, of the seven sins, it's the one I've felt the most recently. 'Deep breaths Arnold, deep breaths. This is Helga Geraldine Pataki. She knows how to handle herself.' I watch as she carefully pulls her drink closer to her and stares the jerk down. I can feel my lips curve up into a smirk as the guy visibly halts, but my eyes soon return to glaring as he somehow finds the nerve to continue his pursuit. He clearly doesn't know whom he's dealing with and the slaughter he's rushing towards. Words are exchanged, and sure enough, Helga quickly dispatches the unwanted man. He must've been **so** charmed by her witty conversation. A chuckle escapes my throat as I remember all of the times I've been on the receiving end of her witticisms. If he couldn't appreciate everything that was Helga G. Pataki, he didn't deserve her.

I raise my gaze so it rests on her back, willing her to turn around, to see me again and _to know_. But she doesn't turn so I clear my throat to gain her attention, the microphone amplifying my voice across the room. She turns, her electric blue eyes meeting mine over the heads of dozens of people and she shivers, or maybe I just imagined that. She runs her tongue across her lips and suddenly my mouth feels dry.

My eyes dart back to the crowd whose applause dragged me out of the trance I was pulled into. "Um.. thanks everyone for being here. It's been great, but it's about time we called it a night don't you think?" Sounds of disappoint fill the room as my gaze wanders back to the bar where I now have the undivided attention of a Ms. Helga G. Pataki. "But before we go, we have a new number for you, written for a special someone by none other than yours truly." Her eyebrows furrow and she reaches up to rub her elbow.

I try to smile, but the audience erupts in whistles and my whole body suddenly feels like its on fire. The sudden attention hits me in the gut and I can't help the nonsensical sputtering emanating from my mouth. This is completely and utterly embarrassing. Why did I think this was a good idea? I look to my best friend at the keyboard for support, knowing very well I wouldn't be getting any. This was a bad idea. There was a reason I didn't tell Gerald. He would've talked some sense into me.

I look back to the woman who has stolen my heart only to find that she is gone. "I've known her for quite some time now" my eyes dart around but fail to find her. Did she go to the bathroom or something? I shut my eyes tightly willing her to be there. "and am now only finding the courage to… " When I open them again my gaze immediately finds her by the door standing next to _him_. My lips curl as I struggle to grasp the sad reality. She invited Ryan. She invited her boyfriend, who decides to show at the end of the night when I am making my confession. Of course, he's as immaculately dressed as ever - in black skinny jeans and a red turtleneck that shows off his toned body - and she seems to be engrossed in something he is saying.

I feel my heart sink, and I can't help but feeling that I have somehow inherited Eugene's bad luck. "…Well maybe it's too late," it's certainly too late to turn back now I think bitterly, "but in any case, I hope you guys enjoy." I count off and the pounding of drums registers in my ears as I feel the words begin to flow from my mouth effortlessly.

As the music begins she turns happily to face the stage and Ryan places an arm around her shoulder. I've got to admit, they look good together. He's tall, and handsome and she is beautiful beyond comprehension. As I stare at them, memories of the description Helga gave when she first started talking about Ryan began to pour into my mind. His soft brown hair cropped short. His freshly shaved chiseled face. I try to smile, but I can't help the feelings of inferiority building. This needs to stop.

My eyes focus on Helga's as we hit the chorus. I watch as her eyes widen impossibly large before a myriad of emotions pass quickly over her face. There she goes biting her lips again; a nervous habit of hers. As I sing I watch her body tense up. Memories flash through my mind. Memories of words passing lips causing rose-colored cheeks. Memories on the field; of collisions, off-colored bruises and laughter. Memories of long awaited skype conversations disrupting the banality of schedules. Memories, and regrets.

I feel sorry. Sorry that I didn't say this sooner. Sorry that we aren't together. Sorry that I lost my chance. I know this isn't fair to her, but it's the only thing I can do. She rubs at her eyes, disrupting our previously uninterrupted eye contact. My voice cracks and my soul pleads for forgiveness as the music begins to fade. I close my eyes as the sound of the crowd drowns the beating of my aching heart. When I open them again, they are gone.

I've never felt so alone before. We're backstage cleaning up in silence. I could feel Phoebe glaring daggers at my back. She bumps past my shoulder as she makes her exit. She is surprisingly strong for a girl who is a good 6 inches shorter than me. She is quickly followed out by Gerald who places a comforting arm on my shoulder. He shakes his head solemnly and mumbles "bold dude" under his breath. We touch knuckles for our customary handshake before he takes his leave as well. Without them saying so, I know I've disappointed them. I know I am supposed to just be happy for her, and I am sorry that I'm not a better person. I squat down to pack up my guitar.

"That was an ever so beautiful song Arnold." I can hear Lila's gentle, soothing voice behind me. Looking up at the ceiling, I close my eyes.

"Thanks Lila. I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it. Hey Arnold,"

"Yes, Lila"

"Well, if you ever need anything, I am only a phone call away." I smile half-heartedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm sure as long as I can be her friend, I will learn to deal. Why don't you go wait out front and I'll walk you home." I watched as she nodded and walked away.

I close my eyes for a moment, determined to take the events of the night in. I feel tears prick at my eyes and I am angry with myself. I stand up, pulling on my plaid shirt before straightening myself out. I move to turn towards the exit when I feel a pair of strong hands grip my shoulder and slam me against the wall. I look back at Ryan's threatening face, shocked by the anger I see there. In my few encounters with him, he had always been so polite, formal and familiar.

"What the bloody hell was that Arnold?"

"I am sorry, Ryan. I just... I just... I love her."

"After all these years. After all the years of her being in love with you, you decide to love her when she is taken. When she is happy with me?" I could feel my eyes widen.

"It's not what you think. I was planning on confessing once she came back from England. I just didn't expect that she would come back with you. I've loved Helga for so long, I want her to be happy, but, I just… you don't know what it is to love someone that long." His eyes flashes and he pulled me off the wall before slamming me into it again. I hadn't wanted to hurt her.

"Cut the shit. Do you know what your stunt did to her? Tell me Arnold, how selfish are you?" I winced as I felt his fingers dig into my skin. For a lean guy, he was surprisingly strong.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The prickly feeling in my eyes was returning along with a new wave of self-hatred.

"Not yet you are you bloody bastard!" I was completely unprepared for the sharp blow that connected to my jaw, but resigned myself for the second one I knew was coming. I shut my eyes tightly. I deserved this.

"Brainy!" My eyes popped open searching, but Ryan's body was blocking my view. Was it my imagination, or was she really here?

"Helga?" I grunted out, before a slight gasp escaped my throat when a fist connected with my gut.

"Brainy, stop! Please." She was begging. She shouldn't have to beg, especially not for me. I looked up at Ryan's face, lips formed into a grimace as he growled back at her before letting me slump to the floor.

It wasn't until I leaned my head back against the wall to catch my breath that my mind caught up with all that had just happened. I looked up, softly calling the figure in front of me. "Brainy?"


	2. Painful Conversations

The last five minutes passed by in a blur and the image of Helga pulling Brainy from back stage without so much as a look in Arnold's direction scorched itself into his mind. Her apparent disregard of his confession was not lost on him; the lack of recognition for the feelings he so fervently expressed through music, the language they had come to share over the past few years was, in his mind, both painful and cruel. But deep down, he knew it was his own fault. Letting his head fall back against the wall, he sat on the cold hard-wooded floor staring blankly at the scaffolding above. Several moments passed before he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to hold back his tears. Engulfed in his effort, he failed to hear the soft clack of heels as a young redheaded woman approached.

"Oh my, Arnold are you okay?" his head snapped forward and his eyes fluttered open taking in freckled cheeks.

"Lila?" His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, but hearing himself helped confirm that the girl he had known for 12 years -one of his most faithful friends and first "real" girlfriend - was in fact, crouching in front of him. Surprised that he had not heard her footsteps and that she had somehow managed to come so close to him without his realization, he unceremoniously blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head, puzzled as to why he was surprised by her presence, but then it dawned on her that he had forgotten his offer to walk her home. Her eyebrows furrowed and nose crinkled as she tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"I was waiting outside when I saw Ryan and Helga storm out. When you still hadn't come out, I decided to come inside to check on you. I'm ever so glad I did, you're bleeding!"

Arnold suddenly became aware of the metallic taste in his mouth. He tentatively reached up to touch his lip before letting it fall to his side as he fell deep into thought. Noticing that Arnold was doing nothing to stop the blood, Lila's hand dove into and fumbled through her purse. "Here, let me help you," she whispered gently. Pulling out a handkerchief she lightly dabbed at the wound.

His body stiffened at her touch, but she ignored both his reaction and his silence, choosing instead to continue dabbing at his lip until he raised his hand to grab hold of hers, effectively ending her endeavor. Shocked, she shifted her gaze from his wide mouth and asymmetrical lips to his bright green eyes, which she found boring intensely into her own.

She silently cursed her inability to stop the quiet tremor that ran through her heart. Making an effort to stay calm, she resorted to her only coping mechanism. Pulling away, she clasped her hands in front of her chest and sweetly called his name. "Arnold, what ever is the matter?"

Momentarily befuddled by her change in demeanor Arnold paused to stare at his companion who began to bat her eyes. It had been several years since he had seen her this way and he shook his head both to answer her question and clear his thoughts. However, honest attempts at clarity could not overcome his anxiety and barely 2 seconds had passed before his thoughts once again drifted to the violence Brainy had proven himself capable of, reminding him of his initial question. Loudly clearing his throat, he gave voice to his concerns. "You said they stormed out, is she… did she look okay Lila?" His voice shook slightly as he continued, "He didn't look like he would hurt her right?"

Lila's chest tightened as her eyebrows once again furrowed in silent pain. Of course, he wasn't about to confess his love for her. That part of their lives was long over and she had seen it coming even before he himself had. But that didn't make it any easier to accept.

"No, he didn't look like he would hurt her. I must say, Ryan looked more like an injured puppy than anything else." She paused and took in a deep breath, turning her head to stare at the wall to her right before continuing, "but as to whether or not she is okay, I honestly don't know Arnold. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

Arnold raised his eyes to glance at his companion. Her body was crouched close to the ground and she had wrapped her arms around herself making her look smaller than she already was. An overwhelming sense of guilt rushed over him as he soaked in her vulnerability.

In the most reassuring voice he could muster he spoke, "You were more than helpful. Thanks," When she didn't respond, he hesitated before continuing in a voice that was purposely gentle yet distant, "and thank you for always being by my side."

A sudden feeling of warmth flooded her and she turned to face him, only to be met with the lopsided smile that usually reminded her of sunshine. But she couldn't will herself to be fooled; the moisture in his shimmering eyes and the wrinkle in his forehead dimmed the light that so naturally radiated from him, promising not sunshine, but an overcast of gloom.

The concern in her eyes prompted him to stand, though rather abruptly. Holding in a groan solicited by his stiff and sore muscles (he promised himself that next time he would not allow himself to take such a beating), Arnold reached out to grab his guitar and strap it to his back. Then, he offered her his hand. "I remember now, I said I would walk you home didn't I?" he asked gently. "Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Are you ready to go?"

She cherished the warmth that enveloped her small, soft hand as they walked the 15 minutes back to her off-campus apartment in silence. When they reached her door he thanked her again before turning to go. She watched him as he descended with slumped shoulders and heavy steps. Halfway down the stoop, a sudden chill ran through her spine causing her body to tremble. She called out, "Would you like to come in for some tea? It's awfully cold out. You could warm yourself before heading home."

Arnold raised his head to look at the full bright moon, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "I don't know if that's such a good idea Lila."

"Why sure it is Arnold, I am ever so sure you have a lot to get off of your chest, and I would be happy to listen."

He bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut in quiet contemplation. It was her gentle "please" that broke him from his reverie. He turned to face her, rubbing the back of his neck before replying, "Sure, I guess a cup of tea would be nice".

Silently they walked up the five flights of stairs to her studio apartment. She found her keys easily, but fumbled with her faulty lock before she was able to push the door open.

"You can put your things by the bed and make yourself comfortable." she gently instructed as she hung her coat on the rack by the door. Then, walking directly across the room she headed towards the cabinets above the stove, where she pulled out a small blue porcelain teapot and filled it with water at the sink. As she busied herself at the stove Arnold took the time to look around her apartment. Not much had changed since his last visit. It was still sparsely furnished: a desk to the right of the door a few steps away from the foot of her bed, a small wardrobe, a foldable table and some stools.

Lila hummed to herself as Arnold took off his jacket and hooked it behind the chair belonging to her desk. Although he wouldn't usually feel any qualms placing his things and his body on her bed, he somehow felt like that wouldn't be the smartest choice today. So instead, he placed his guitar by the door and busied himself looking through the books on the shelves of her desk, a habit he had picked up from Helga. She always said you could learn a lot about a person from the books they decided to keep.

However, unlike Helga herself, Lila had never been a mystery to him and he didn't need books to read who she was. She was sweet, romantic, funny, but most importantly, he thought as he picked up a copy of Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein', lonely. Another wave of guilt racked his body as he fingered the spine of the book; the tender sound of her humming only making him feel worse.

Looking for something to do and uncomfortable with placing himself on the bed, Arnold began to set the foldable table. His body tensed when he noticed her watching him from the corner of her eye. Turning to face her, he cleared his throat to speak "What kind of tea are we having today?"

"Would you like to try chamomile?" she replied, a shy smile on her lips. "It's supposed to help with sleeping. I figured maybe you wouldn't be getting much tonight."

His eyes softened, projecting silent words of gratitude for her thoughtfulness. "That sounds like a great idea."

She opened her mouth to respond, to say that she knows what he needs and that she could be that, but the sudden whistle of the pot cut her short. Her cheeks puffed out in defiance as she silently acknowledged that at some point during the night, she was going to tell him. She leveled her gaze to meet his eyes, wanting to make that moment now, but there he was, once again pointedly looking away from her, as if he knew what she wanted but was unwillingly to see her.

"You should take the pot off the stove or it might wake your neighbors, it's kind of late." His gentle reminder knocked the air out of her puffed up cheeks and caused her shoulders to slump.

"R-right. I am certain you are ever so right." She turned abruptly to turn off the flame. "Would you mind setting the coasters?"

Arnold nodded. He walked up to the stove and reached into the cabinet for three coasters and two teacups ; trying to make himself as small as possible as he stood beside her to complete the task.

They settled on the stools and took their cups into their hands. Burning his tongue on his first sip, Arnold quickly put down his cup and drummed his fingers against the table as he waited for the tea to cool. Lila, who had much more experience taking in hot drinks, sipped hers quietly, eyes furrowed in concentration.

A sudden feeling of dread filled his heart and he couldn't stop his eyes from darting towards the door every few moments. He had known coming in would be a mistake, but he had also known that he would have to face the music sooner or later – he wouldn't be the only one confessing his love tonight. He couldn't help but remember the platitude "Karma is a cruel mistress", and although he honestly felt he deserved the pain of heartbreak, he knew Lila didn't. Especially not over someone like him.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Lila began to speak. "It's been a long time since it's been just you and I enjoying tea. I…I am ever so sure I really enjoy your company Arnold." He winced, a movement that had luckily gone unnoticed by the red-head who was staring blankly into her teacup as if she believed tea leaves could somehow predict the outcome of their conversation. Arnold took a big gulp of tea, ignoring the burning sensation flowing from his tongue to his belly so that he could delay replying.

"Junior year of high school was ever so fun wasn't it?" Her gaze shyly rose to meet his before she continued, "That was the year we were together, do you remember?"

Arnold rubbed at the back of his neck, massaging it lightly before staring straight into Lila's forest green eyes. "That was the year my grandpa died."

She cringed. That wasn't exactly the response she had been trying to elicit and it wasn't the exact direction she wanted the conversation to go, but she knew that the death of his grandpa had been a part of everything that had happened. It was the beginning of the new Arnold. It was the beginning of the Arnold she hadn't recognized and the Arnold who would fall in love with Helga.

She looked up to find his steady gaze still resting on her. She sighed, and as if possessed by a petulant child, huffed out her discontent. "Is that why you fell in love with her?"

Lila knew she said the wrong thing when a hissing sound emitted from Arnold as he sharply took in air as if punched in the gut. She had injured him, but she couldn't find it in herself to apologize. She was hurting too.

"I loved you, you know".

"I know" came his sullen reply.

"And I still…"

"I know" he interrupted. "But, I'm sorry." Tears gathered in their eyes as they both gazed down at their cooling mugs, afraid to look at one another and face the hurt they had caused.

"What happened to us Arnold? What happened to you?" her words escaped in a choked whisper.

Arnold squeezed his eyes shut. It was difficult for him to recall the happiness and false sense of security he had felt on his first day back at Hillwood, knowing now that he had been misled. But that first day back, August 15th, 2006, had been absolutely beautiful.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry I am so slow on the updates, and that this fic is seriously dramatic, but I am working on it and it won't be abandoned. Thank you all so much for reading! Please Review and let me know what you think!


	3. Regards

December 16, 2006

Arnold slammed the door shut as he made his way out into the cold frosty December morning, his breath catching in his throat as he took his first steps down the stoop of the boarding house before turning left and heading down the block. "So much for reliving happy memories", he grumbled to himself, burying his nose in his scarf as he quickened his pace.

Shoving clenched fists into his winter coat, Arnold walked south, passing P.S. 118 as he thought about that first day back. It had been clear, warm and sunny, with the children of the neighborhood chasing wildly after the Jolly Olly man or running through open fire hydrants. Okay, so maybe the day wasn't warm, and maybe it had been rather humid (though it compared nothing to the perpetually wet air of the San Lorenzo rain forest), but Arnold had been so happy since his parents had told him of their plans to return, that he hadn't noticed. It was like tunnel vision really; a tunnel that led to vivid images of childhood memories long since passed.

"Maybe that is why I didn't notice they were hiding something," he thought bitterly as he turned into Hillwood's small park. He shivered as a sudden gust of wind blew against him, forcing him to duck his head and take a step back to bear the full brunt of its force.

Much like his time since returning to Hillwood, the winter was shaping up to be harsh. The leaves had fallen quickly from the trees in early November leaving them barren by the first of the month. The temperature had not been any better. Over the past few weeks, it had more often than not, dropped below 20 degrees Fahrenheit. As a result, the park was often empty and had unconsciously become one of Arnold's favorite routes when setting out to clear his mind.

And he had a lot of things to clear from his mind. Like how his grandfather and contracted heart disease two years ago and his parents had just decided it would be a good time to return to Hillwood, when his grandfather had already started deteriorating and was just waiting for death. Why hadn't they told him sooner? Why hadn't they come back sooner?

Arnold groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes, shaking his head furiously. Those were the kind of dangerous thoughts he wanted to out of his head, not in it. It wasn't his parent's fault. They were good people and they had the best intentions.

They always had the best intentions.

Pushing past another strong gust of wind, Arnold made his way towards the center of the park, plopping down on a familiar bench. He pulled out his mp3, plugging his headphones into his ears before leaning his head back and closing his eyes to concentrate on his breath.

He was awakened from his daze by the sudden sensation of a snowflake falling on his button-nose, and all too quickly, he became aware of the numbness of his own body. He stood, and while trying to ignore the feeling of pins and needles shooting through his legs, reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone flipping it open to check the time: 6:15 pm. About two hours had passed since he'd left home and he had a total of 8 missed phone calls.

He quickly scrolled through his calls: 6 from his parents and 2 from Lila. A lopsided grin graced his boyish face when he saw that she had not only called, but sent him a message as well.

 _Dinner next Friday night?_

'Well, at least one thing in my life seems to be going right." he thought to himself as he typed out an affirmative response. Smiling, he reread his message before clicking send, his mood improving suddenly with the knowledge that he had a date with his soul mate on Friday.

He stretched his arms above his head, rubbing at the kinks in his neck before deciding it was time to head back. Ambling his way through the park, he took in the colors of the changing sky as it danced between hues of orange and pink. It was beautiful, and it reminded him of a certain someone.

A certain someone whose long golden hair resembled that of a princess in a fairytale his grandfather once read him. Especially now, when it was being whipped about by a sudden gust of wind as she stood in the middle of the park's bridge, arms wrapped tightly around herself, head lifted towards the heavens as the soft glow of the setting sun illuminated the fresh tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

'What is she doing here?' he thought, as he suddenly froze in his tracks, struck by the sad beauty of it all.

He hesitated, lips curving into a frown as he contemplated his now distant relationship with Helga G. Pataki. She had not only actively ignored him since his return, but had time and time again shunned him with glaring eyes that showed nothing but contempt. He let his gaze fall to the ground.

Would she ignore him again? He tried to ignore the tightening of his chest and instead focused on distant memories of the two as children. His mind flashed back to the last time he had seen her on this bridge, when they were nine-years old and he was hurting. Drawing his shoulders back, he raised his head taking his first step towards her. 'She comforted me, and I should return the favor,' he thought to himself.

The next step. 'I can see her breath in the air. She shouldn't be crying here all alone, especially not in this weather.'

Another step. 'But she looks so beautiful. Why is she out here anyway?"

One more step.

Snap.

Arnold looked down at the branch he just mutilated with his foot, unsure if it was the branch or the rapid movement of her thin neck that made such a revolting sound. 'Well I guess it doesn't matter now,' he thought as he watched her cerulean eyes widen first with shock and then with something bordering on terror. He cringed, hating that he had caused that expression.

Taking a deep breath in, he took large strides forward, stopping within arms length of her body. His eyes scanned her thin frame and watched in horror as she shivered uncontrollably. How had he not realized sooner she was out without a coat?

He quickly unraveled his scarf and began to wrap it around her. Her eyes softened as she reached up to touch the forest green wool with her fingertips. "Helga." her name escaped his lips in a breathy whisper and he instantly regretted how feeble he sounded. Clearing his throat he spoke more firmly. "Your hands."

Suddenly she felt the warmth of his large calloused palms surrounding her thin fingers as he rubbed furiously to create friction. "They're so cold." He whispered to himself, raising their hands to his lips before breathing gently. His eyes lifted to meet hers as he half-heartedly began to berate her. "Geez Helga, what were you thinking? Why don't you have a coat?" Letting go of her hands, his gaze shifted downwards as he focused on unbuttoning his duffel jacket. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he began to slide an arm out of its sleeve. "What are you doing out here any ... oomph"

There was a sharp pain in his shoulder as she pushed passed him, hurrying in the direction he came. "Wait, Helga! Where are you going?" He followed after her, shouting against the wind. "Your home is the other way and it's too cold for you to be out here without a jacket. Hey Helga, _HEY_!" His steps quickened and his voice rose as he again reached out, this time managing to wrap a hand around her slim wrist.

"Would you just stop for a moment? I mean, jeez, _what_ is _wrong_ with you?" She yanked her wrist from his grasp and Arnold drew back his hand, realizing too late the mistake he had made. In trying to comfort her he had lost his temper, _again_. He pinched the bridge of his nose sighing in frustration. Her shoulders were shaking and he was hoping to God he hadn't made her, Helga G. Pataki, cry. "I'm sorry Helga, I didn't mean that I'm just under a lot of…"

Her cackle was loud and shrewd and when she turned to face him with piercing eyes, he felt his blood run cold. " What's wrong with me?" she spat. " You should really stop pretending like you care and just hurry up and disappear."

Stunned by her hostility and hurt by her words, Arnold was at a loss on what to do, giving Helga the opportunity to break out into a sprint, leaving him to wallow in his thoughts alone. He fumbled with the buttons of his jacket before shoving his clenched fists into his pockets, feet unconsciously moving again.

How could she think that he didn't care about her? Didn't she remember him seeking her out on the first day back at school and his attempts at cornering her for a chat for at least a month after that? And what was with that last part about disappearing. It's not like he abandoned her or anything. When he left Hillwood, she had said that she had understood why he was going and had wished him luck with his parents. Why now? Why all of a sudden, when he was back, when they could resume building their childhood friendship was she acting this way?

Before he knew it Arnold was back at the boarding house feeling just as tormented as he did when he left. 'I can't face them this way', he thought as he pulled out his key and slammed it into the lock. He twisted it violently, until it caught, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open. And all too suddenly, he was face to face with his mother.

Eyebrows furrowed and lower lip between her two front teeth, her normally soft features were twisted in concern. 'Don't be the cause of another scene' he thought to himself as he forced a smile onto his face.

"Arnold, sweetie, where have you been? We've been calling for hours."

"Sorry mom," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I was just out for a walk and forgot my cellphone. It won't happen again.

Stella took a step back, grimacing as she nodded. Clearing her throat, she forced a smile onto her own face.

"It's okay dear. I'm- I'm glad you are okay." Arnold nodded before kicking off his shoes and heading towards the staircase.

"I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Wait," Arnold paused, foot on the first step, "dinner's ready. Wouldn't you like some? Your father made your favorite, vegetarian lasagna."

"Thanks, but no. I'm tired from my walk. Good night." He called down to her, footsteps echoing in the foyer as he increased the distance between them. He heard her sigh as he reached the top, but couldn't find it in him to feel guilty for what he knew was bad behaviour.

Thud.

A sudden crash down the hallway drew his attention towards his grandfather's room. He made his way quickly to the door and was about to grab and turn the knob when he heard the loud cackles of his grandmother and the soft protestations of his grandfather.

"Pookie, are you nuts? What are you doing you crazy old coot, get down from there before you knock over something else!"

"Why General, that is no way to talk to your superior. Too the gallows with you!"

Arnold smiled to himself as he leaned against the door to rest his head on its frame.

"Will you stop with this gallows nonsense? I can't tell if we're in Revolutionary France or Revolutionary America at this point."

"Well keep up cowboy, can't leave you behind now can I?" she spoke softly. Arnold strained to hear her next words, but only caught his grandfather's timid response.

"I'm trying here Pookie. I'm trying. What's got you in a frenzy anyway?"

"Why, I was afraid you'd never ask. Eleanor stopped by again. What a pity she couldn't stay to have tea like the old times. She sends you her love. What a lovely young woman she's grown to be is. Quite a catch if I do say so myself. If only Ar-"

There was another loud crash from the room and Arnold didn't hesitate when he ripped the door open.

"Grandma, Grandpa are you okay?" His gaze quickly scanned the room. There was his grandfather, tucked neatly into his bed, sitting up and staring at his wife who was dangling from a pipe with one hand, a small pot of yellow flowers in another; beneath her, some books and an over-turned chair.

"Why lookie here General, it's Arnold. Arnold would you be a dear and place this pot over on that shelf up there."

"Sure grandma, but let's get you down first." Arnold stepped forward to wrap his arms around his grandmother's waist, easing her gently to the floor. Taking the pot from her hand, he moved dutifully towards the shelf, but hesitated as he looked up at its height. While his grandparents had seem like giants to him when he was 9, they were no longer so. Age had taken its toll as their bones shrunk into themselves.

"You sure you don't want to put it somewhere closer? Maybe we can place it on the bedside table. You know you shouldn't be climbing around anymore."

"Why Tex, I feel insulted. I'm as fit as a fiddle, I'll show you." She maneuvered her way in front of him, reaching out for the pipe again, but Arnold quickly stepped in front of her.

"It's okay grandma, I believe you, it's just-"

"Shortman, don't worry so much. It's good exercise for that crazy old coot, but if you are so intent on stopping her, why don't you come by and water them yourself." Gertie sauntered over to her husband's bedside, plopping down to sit cross-legged on it.

"Why that's a wonderful idea general," She said with a wink.

Arnold took a moment to take in the sight of his grandparents, hoping that he and Lila would one day share a love like theirs. He closed his eyes trying to imagine himself in their place, but quickly opened them again when he saw blonde instead of red. He shook his head to clear the image. 'Must be these flowers. They're so yellow, of course I'd imagine blonde' he reasoned.

"Hey grandma, these are daffodils right?"

"Yes, and they're beautiful aren't they?" Arnold nodded his agreement, blushing as he realized whom he had just associated with said beautiful flowers.

"How often do they need to be watered?" He added, trying to distract himself from the memories of their recent encounter.

"Well Tex, to be honest, they probably won't last very long. They are spring flowers you know? But it's the thought that counts." Arnold nodded his understanding, raising the plant to place it on the shelf. Noticing a small card as the plant passed his eye level, he reached out to pluck it from between the stems before walking over to his grandparents.

"You know general," Gertie continued as she took her husband's hand, "sending daffodils is the same as sending one's regards."

Arnold watched as his grandpa's lips curved into a mischievous lopsided smile. "Is that so? Well, remember to thank Eleanor for me."

"Hey grandma, grandpa, who's Eleanor?" Arnold asked as he handed over the card. He watched as his grandparents exchanged a look.

"Oh look general, a poem!"

"But grandma, you haven't even looked at it yet, how do you even know if it's a poem."

"Well Shortman, let's just say Pookie here knows Eleanor very well." Arnold's eyes furrowed. Perhaps Eleanor was one of his grandmother's many aliases. That would explain why she knew what the flowers meant and how to take care of them. But why would she send flowers that wouldn't last? Although the facts weren't really lining up clearly, who else would send his grandfather flowers? Arnold turned expectantly to the card. If it really did hold a poem, he could be more sure.

"Well general, what are you waiting for. Read it for us." Arnold and his grandmother waited enthusiastically as his grandfather cleared his throat and pulled on his reading glasses.

 _I wandered lonely as a cloud_

 _That floats on high o'er vales and hills_

 _When all at once I saw a crowd,_

 _A host, of golden daffodils;_

 _Beside the lake, beneath the trees,_

 _Fluttering and dancing in the breeze_

"Wow grandma, did you really write that?"

"What are you talking about Kimba, of course I didn't. It was Eleanor."

"Well actually, it was William Wordsworth" his grandpa replied, holding the card up to Arnold's face so that he could see the name written below the verse. He took a look at the title of the poem beside it, making a mental note to look it up later.

"Well, it was beautiful now wasn't it Phil." His grandma interjected.

"You've got that right Pookie." Arnold smiled; enjoying the happy tears in his grandfather's eyes as his wife gently patted his thigh.

There was a soft knock as his dad made his presence known by poking his head through the doorframe. "Mom, dad, dinner's - Oh, Arnold, I thought your mom said you were going to bed early. Will you be joining us for dinner?" There was a slight twinkle of hope in Miles eyes that caused Arnold to grimace.

"I'm actually really tired dad. I just stopped by to say goodnight to grandma and grandpa."

"Nonsense Arnold, a growing boy like you needs his spinach." Arnold's eyes grew wide as the loud grumbling of his stomach responded to his grandmother's interjection.

"Well I -" Arnold shot his grandfather a panicked look.

"Don't worry Kimba, if you're too tired, I'll bring some up for you. Go and rest."

"But mom, don't you think it's better to eat as a family."

"Now Miles, sometimes people just need to rest. Right Phil?"

"Sure, I remember when you were young and needed quite some time to yourself in the bathroom."

"Dad!"

"What? That's why I always say, stay away from those raspberries. You hear that Shortman?"

"I know grandpa, and thanks for understanding. Good night everyone."

Arnold couldn't bear to look at his father as he walked passed, choosing instead to ignore his tired sigh and head straight to his room. Closing the door gently behind him, he walked over to his couch to lie down and look at the sky.

It was nothing like the sky of San Lorenzo. It lacked its brilliant stars and glowed a faint purple instead of a pitch black at night. Still, although he missed the luminous jungle stars, he preferred the steady hum of city traffic to the panoply of noises the jungle provided. There was something about city noise that lulled him, blanketed him in a sense of security. He could feel his eyes start to close when he heard a soft knock at his door.

"Arnold, it's me."

"Come in grandma." He called as he sat up on the couch.

"Well, aren't you a regular prince charming." Arnold rubbed at the back of his neck dropping his head in embarrassment.

"You're right, I should have gotten the door. Sorry grandma." She grinned at him as she placed his meal along with a small vase with one daffodil on his desk. Arnold gazed fell on the new addition to his room.

"Grandma, isn't that a gift for grandpa?" Gertie shuffled over to sit with her grandson on the couch.

"Yes it is."

"You shouldn't have picked it off for me." Gertie responded with a grin wide enough to show the gap in her otherwise perfect teeth. Leaning over she gently placed a hand on her grandson's cheek.

"Don't be so angry Kimba, we're not." Arnold sighed and reached up to place his hand on hers, leaning his cheek into her palm.

"I'm trying, but it's not easy grandma. I've just been, I just, I just don't understand. Why did they have to wait this long. I'm scared I don't have much time left with him. Aren't you?"

"Ya darn tootin I am Tex, but it's all a part of life. We may not have much time with him, but we have enough time to say goodbye. That's what's most important. He knows you love him, and as long as there are people who remember him, who think of him," her eyes wandered over to the daffodil on his desk, "he'll never be gone."

Arnold pulled his knees towards his chest pulling away from his grandmother's comforting touch to rest his chin on his knees. His eyes also wandered over to the daffodil. It reminded him a lot of a yellow chrysanthemum he received in his locker during his first day of school.

"Hey grandma, do you know what a yellow chrysanthemum means?" Eyes still focused on the flower across from him, Arnold failed to notice the sad look that passed through his grandmother's eyes.

"It means slighted love, Kimba."

"Oh. Well she probably didn't know what it meant when she gave it to me."

"When who gave it to you Kimba?"

"Lila." Gertie's wrinkles became more pronounced as she furrowed her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose.

"I see. Well Tex, this ole gal better get going. You make sure to eat your supper before heading off to bed."

"I will, and grandma, before you go, why did you give me a flower. Weren't those for grandpa?"

"Why Tex, it's to remind you that there is someone thinking of you of course." Arnold mouth grew into a wide grin as he returned his gaze to the single stem.

"Thanks grandma!"

"You're welcome, Arnold."

Author's Note: Always so slow with updates. So sorry about that. But sometimes I get inspired to write by other people's fan fiction. This time, I was inspired to write by Smarty0007's All I can do. It's really well-written and I hope I can get to that level one day. In any case, thanks for reading. I would be happy with any constructive feedback, so please do leave a review.

Poem was by William Wordsworth. It's titled ' I wandered lonely as a cloud'.


	4. Broken Hearts

April 1, 1999

Gertie's bright eyes glanced at the neon numbers of the alarm clock on her nightstand.

10:53pm.

She sighed, closing her eyes and reliving the few weeks since her grandson's departure. With its youngest and second most adventurous member missing, the boarding house had become rather dull. In many ways, Arnold's absence was a catalyst for many changes amongst the boarders. Suzy and Oscar's arguments were becoming more frequent and escalating in intensity, Ernie spent an increasing amount of time out on the streets while Mr. Hyung spent more time in his room, singing quiet songs in his deep, rich voice.

But Gertie was wise enough to recognize that the biggest changes were occurring within her husband and herself. Although Phil had not yet lost his wit and sarcasm, the light in his eyes had dimmed. Every day, he went through his usual routine, but his nimble steps had lost their bounce. He was going through the motions, and yet, she knew from his smile that he was happy, albeit, that bitter happiness that one can only feel for the ones they truly love.

On the other hand, she herself had been feeling much like the bunny in those commercials her husband hated. The love and energy she had usually reserved for taking care of and entertaining her grandson had found no alternate outlet and thus harbored itself inside her during the day, making it difficult for her to sleep at night. Each night she found herself pacing back and forth on the wooden floorboard, occasionally stopping to stare out of the window as if she was a guard assigned to night duty. It had become such a habit during those first few weeks after his departure that she had decided to place a chair by the window to make her watch more comfortable.

She was thus similarly situated: watching raindrops pummelling against her window with an old broomstick leaning against her shoulder, when she heard a crash. Sitting up straight in her chair, her ears perked up as the sky lit up with a flash of lightening. 'Thunder?' Squinting her eyes she whispered to herself, "That's just what the perp wants you to think.'

Standing up abruptly, she marched her way over to her sleeping husband. "Phil, psst Phil. Wake up!" When she received a non-committal grunt in reply, she poked him in the ribs with the end of her broomstick.

"I said wake up! There's a burglar in the boarding house." Phil attempted to glare at his wife in between rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What in the world are you going on about Pookie? WAIT, DID YOU SAY A BURGLAR? WE GOTTA GET DOWN STAIRS TO CALL THE POLICE!"

"Shh," she commanded as she once again poked at his ribs, "you're going to alert the thief to our presence. Slick, we have the element of surprise… let's go get 'im."

Phil took a good hard look at his wife. She was dressed in the blue nightgown he bought her for her birthday- the one that showed off her knobbly knees and thin frame- and she was crouched in a position that mirrored what a soldier might look like if he were going to spear someone with a bayonet. She even had on the helmet he used during the War.

Another bolt of lightning struck, followed by the loud roar of thunder and an idea suddenly crossed his rather muddled mind. He had seen her dozing on the chair by the window countless of nights before, could she have been dozing and confused the thunder for a burglar? Narrowing his eyes, he responded to his wife's goading.

"Pookie, how do you know there's a burglar?"

"I can feel it in my bones," came her raspy reply. Phil sighed heavily as he lifted the covers and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. She was in one of her moods, and he knew there was no stopping her when she was in one of her moods.

"Well, let's get this over with, I want to get back to bed before the sun comes up, and once we catch this burglar, you're coming to bed with me. No more sitting in that dang chair staring at nothing."

"You got it slick," she answered with a wink before busting out into a low cackle. He watched as she marched over to the door in her purple unicorn slippers. He closed his eyes and shook his head. 'Where did she even find those things' he thought to himself as he dragged his feet after her.

The next fifteen minutes of Phil's life were spent holding a candle as he lumbered after his wife in the otherwise darkened bordering house. They made their way down the stairs and as they passed the door, he pulled a shawl from the coat stand, draping it over her poorly covered shoulders. He stood in doorways and rolled his eyes as he watched her meticulously search the kitchen, dining room, living room and even the basement.

She huffed at the end of her search and he almost betrayed his thoughts with a chuckle as they made their way back up the stairs.

"Well Pookie, maybe you just heard-." Phil almost dropped his candle as he crashed into his wife on the stairs.

"Pookie, what in the world – "

"Shh, look." He raised his gaze to the spot on the ceiling where his wife was pointing. The cracks of the pull out stairs to Arnold's room were aglow, something they only did when the light was on.

"Well that can't be right," Phil whispered to himself as he scratched his head. His eyes widened in realization. She had been right all along. "POO-"

"Shh," Gertie removed her hand from her husband's mouth before beckoning him with her hand as she stalked towards their grandson's room. Before he could reach out to stop her, she jumped up, pulling at the string to release the staircase. She was at the door of his room before Phil was finally able to put a hand out to stop her. Shuffling in front of his wife, he blew out the candle, placing it quietly on the step before gently taking the broomstick from her hands. If they were going to confront a burglar, he sure wasn't going to let his wife go first. He smiled at her and she grinned when she saw the spark in his eyes.

January 5, 2006

Arnold quizzically lifted his head from his chin when he heard his name announced from the PTA system, but the feeling of surprise quickly turned to dread when it asked him to head to the office with his coat and books. It took a moment for his heart to regain its beat and another moment for him to oblige. He moved slowly, tenderly placing his calculus textbook into his bag. Squeezing his eyes shut he begged his mind to think of more positive reasons why he might be asked to go home. He stood up and threw a wary glance at his best friend across the room, but Gerald's returning smile didn't reach his eyes.

He shut the door behind him and stood in the quiet hall. Staring at the floor, he watched as silent teardrops darkened the fabric of his shoes. He took a deep breath, wiping the tears from his eyes before he walked towards the office. He kept his eyes on the ground, lifting them only when he thought he saw a flash of pink.

He paused in front of the frosted door of the main office. It took five minutes before someone was sent to look for him. Five minutes of listening to his mother's quiet sobs and a distant wailing coming from the girl's bathroom.

It was then, the moment that he learned of his grandfather's death that Arnold realised, every ounce of love leads to a broken heart.

 **Author's Note:** Once again, a chapter that didn't come out the way I wanted to, but hopefully something that people can relate to. Please feel free to drop a comment, but try not to be too harsh.


	5. Memories and a Funeral

Helga exhaled as she bent at the knees curtsying to the crowd's applause, her serene expression never leaving her face throughout her performance. But that was exactly what it was, a performance, and so as soon as the curtain closed she grimaced, stomping her way towards the dressing room backstage. What was the point in participating in this stupid sport if the parents who signed her up for it weren't even going to show up and watch her win? She growled at the other girls in her class, ignoring their praise much to their chagrin. She didn't need _their_ validation, she didn't need _anyone's_ validation. She was Helga G. Pataki for Pete's sake. And as that thought crossed her mind, she had to grit her teeth in order to ignore the images of the empty 'reserved seats' in the auditorium's front row.

After pulling off her ballet slippers, she sat in the dressing room, arms crossed in front of her budding chest as she waited for the rest of the performances to finish. Unlike the other girls who joined the audience and their families after their own performances, Helga, who couldn't bear sitting in the audience alone, learned which competitor was vying for a prize by observing each girl's expression and body language upon their entrance into the dressing room, their emotions ranging from elation to devastation. Did they have a quiver in their voice when they greeted her, or did their smile pull at one side, expressing confidence and self-satisfaction? Were their shoulders slumped or were they bouncing on their heels. It was these observations that helped her read her competition, and she was hardly ever wrong.

Today, she knew she would be taking home first prize, if not, at least second. Perhaps it was because of the disappointment that came with performing for no one. It infused itself into her every move, entrancing the audience with its combination of furious passion and quiet sadness. When she walked on the stage to accept her prize, she did so with detachment. It was like being the 'it girl' all over again. They saw her, but they didn't _really_ see her.

'No one really sees me' she thought to herself as she changed backstage and collected her things. The auditorium had half emptied out by the time she emerged, but she didn't bother looking up from her shoes until a bouquet of flowers were thrust in her face.

"Well, well, well Pookie, lookie here. We found ourselves a winner, though with that expression I would think she didn't even know it."

"Ph-Phil!" Helga's eyes widened as she tried to control her stammer. "What are _you_ doing here, and what are these?" she added as an after thought, gesturing towards the boquet. Phil gasped.

"Pookie, do you believe these kids these days? They don't even know what flowers are!" Helga shifted her workout bag on her shoulder before placing her hands on her pre-teen hips.

"Hey, don't get smart with me old man."

"Yeah, don't get smart with Eleanor, she _is_ the First lady you know." Pookie interjected with squinting eyes.

"Okay, okay." Phil threw up his hands in surrender. "Geez, _women_." He muttered to himself. "Always ganging up on the little guy." Helga fought against the smirk pulling at her lips.

"So, why are you here?"

"Again with the obvious questions. Well aren't you a little Einstein? To see you perform of course." Helga's mouth dropped open as she began rubbing at her elbow.

"Oh, uh, well I, I guess..."

"You're welcome. Now listen here, Pookie and I are going to get some ice-cream and seeing as you are here and we are here, you're coming to. Ya got everything?

"Yeah, but I…"

"Good," Pookie interjected, "Now, get into the Packard and let's roll." She jingled some keys from her bony index finger before running out of the auditorium, a nervous Phil calling after her. Alone in the auditorium, Helga smiled to herself before adjusting the strap on her shoulder and heading towards the light shining through the auditoriums entrance not knowing that she would have two guests for every one of her performances over the next 5 years.

* * *

"Well Pookie, you'll just have to talk to her." Helga pressed her ear against the kitchen door listening closely. " What is she, like 12-13 now. It's not right!"

"But Phil, these things are delicate."

"Delicate schmelicate." His voice rose an octave as he continued. "Who knows if her parents have even noticed? We can't just not say anything. She's been practically living here for the past year. Someone needs to take responsibility!"

"But Phil, we aren't her parents."

"Yet she stays here, eats our food, and uses our bathroom! It's a miracle those dunderheads we call boarders haven't noticed we have an extra body in the house."

Helga cringed as she heard Gertie sigh.

'I guess I'm not wanted here after all' she thought to herself as she blinked her tears away and forcefully pushed the kitchen door open leaving Phil and Gertie staring in shock.

"Well, lookie who we have here. Perfect timing. Pookie, would you do the honors." Helga watched as Phil nudged Gertie forward.

"Well, hello there Eleanor, it is a pleasure to see you up so early in the morning. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Pookie!"

"Yeah, yeah I get it. I've been eating your food, taking up space in this old hunk of junk you call a home" Helga shouts as she glares down at her shoes. "I get it. I'll get out of your hair! You don't need to hold a secret meeting about it."

"What!?"

"What the heck are you talkin about. We're not kicking you out." Helga looked up, staring wide-eyed at the old man in front of her.

"You're not?"

"Well of course we're not."

"Crimeny, then what were you just taking about?" Helga watched as the elderly couple exchanged a glance.

"Phil, would you mind boiling some water and skedaddlin'?" Gertie spoke as she stepped forward and ushered Helga into a chair.

"You've got it Pookie!" As Phil busied himself with the kettle, Gertie twiddled her thumbs and stared directly into the eyes of the young blonde. Helga met her steady gaze until she felt Phil ruffle her already sleep-disheveled hair as he quietly made his way passed her and out of the kitchen. Standing outside of the door, he waited for his wife to begin.

"Well you see Eleanor, there comes a time in every girl's life when she becomes a woman."

* * *

Helga felt her body jolt, the coughs racking through her thin frame as she shambled through the snow-covered streets of Hillwood. Keeping her head down, she wilfully pushed against the wind, reaching the boarding house just in time. She felt like she was about to collapse. Resting against the adjacent building, she hugged herself as she hacked out another series of violent coughs before pushing off against the bricks and entering the boarding house's alley. Stumbling, she precariously made her way up the fire escape and into her sanctuary where she collapsed on the bed and slept.

When she awoke, she found that she was tucked under a plush blanket that smelled vaguely like lavender and it took her a moment to recognize the quiet humming coming from across the room.

"Gertie?" Her voice sounded raspy and it hurt to speak, but she was relieved that her headache had gone.

"Why Eleanore, you're awake!" Pookie responded, rolling across the room to her bedside in Arnold's computer chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was just hit by a ton of bricks." Helga sniffled, trying to sit up. She gave up when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Nu uh, you just stay right there young lady. Phil will be up with a bowl of soup any minute now, but you just sit back and rest." Helga sat back as she was told, wondering if this was what it felt like to have a mom, to have a family. She bit her lip, holding back her tears as she watched her surrogate mother brush blonde strands of hair out of her face to better feel her forehead.

"Well, it seems like your fever has gone down."

"Mmm," Helga hummed. She closed her eyes as the old woman beside her began to rake her thin arthritic fingers through her hair. It was a nice feeling, to be pampered and she could feel the invisible weights on her body vanish.

Pookie shook her head as she looked down at the infirmed teenager. She looked pale, and so vulnerable. It infuriated her to see her in such a state. Respecting the girl's wishes, they had not called child services over the years, but looking at how weak she was now, had that been the right decision? She bit the inside of her lip as she watched the girls furrowed eyebrows loosen and relax. She had half a mind to strangle the Patakis and was thinking up ways of vandalizing their property when she was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.

Pookie shot up out of her seat just as her husband poked his head through the door.

"How's the girl, is she awake yet?" Pookie smiled gently at the concerned etched on her husband's face. He had come to love the girl just as much as she had if not more so. He'd always wanted a girl and though she knew he wouldn't admit it, he enjoyed their tit for tats.

"This girl has a name old man" Phil raised an eyebrow as his mouth quirked itself into a smirk. It always surprised him how much spunk the girl had in her. He was sure she was on her deathbed when they first found her collapsed on Arnold's bed, but it seemed like some rest had done her some good. She was still pretty pale, her nose was as red as rudolph's, and her voice sounded like she swallowed a cheese shredder, but she did seem to have some energy.

"This old man has a name too." He retorted as he closed the door behind him to lean comfortably on its frame.

"Touché"

"So, why are you here? Don't you know better than to leave your house in the middle of winter when you're sick?" Helga glowered at the old man and he felt like he would regret asking his question.

"Well, I was hungry."

"You were hungry?" he repeated in exasperation.

"Yeah, are you going deaf or something? Miriam was passed out on the couch again, Bob was out who knows where doing who knows what and I've eaten through all of the cup' o noodles and snacks days ago."

Immediately after the words escaped her mouth, she regretted them. She didn't like lashing out on the Shortman's, but she couldn't help herself. The anger that she felt towards her family was only surpassed by the embarrassment she felt for needing others. And although the Shortman's weren't strangers, she felt humiliated by her situation and hated to be questioned about it. She sighed, afraid to look up at the faces of the people she had come to love. She knew she should apologize, but as she opened her mouth, she broke into another fit of coughs instead.

Phil grumbled as he walked over to the computer desk, pouring water from the kettle Pookie had prepared earlier into a mug. Walking over to the bed, he held the mug in front of the young girl's face.

"Here, be careful, it's hot." Helga waited until she stopped coughing before taking the mug and muttering a 'thanks'. She blew on the hot liquid, watching the ripples her breath made on the surface. When the liquid was sufficiently cooled, she took a big gulp, relishing in soothing affect it had on her abused throat.

"So, you're hungry?" Almost if on cue, her stomach let out a loud grumble and she felt herself blush. "Pookie, I'll hold down the fort. Do you mind going downstairs and bringing up the soup?"

"Aye Aye capitan." The two watched silently as Gertie marched out of the room, counting her paces. Taking his wife's place on the chair, Phil raised his eyes to the ceiling and began to speak.

"When you get better, we're going to teach you how to go grocery shopping and how to cook. Do you understand?" Helga nodded silently.

"I'll let Pookie teach you the shopping business, but I wouldn't trust the two of you in the kitchen, so I'll be teaching that to you myself. I make a mean flapjack if I do say so myself. Hey, are you listening?"

"Yeah, I'm listening." Helga responded, peering into the warm mug clutched between her hands.

"Good." Phil sighed deeply before continuing. "You and I both know that life isn't always fair. Try telling that to the Shortman and he'll win you over with his optimism. Well, I guess that's why you fell in love with him," Helga's head jerked up as she opened her mouth to protest.

"Uh, uh, uh. Don't even bother denying it, it won't work with me. And anyway, that's not the point I'm tryna make. The point I'm tryna make is that you're 14 years old and you've been through a lot more than a lot of adults out there. You should be better taken care of. But your not. Pookie and I, well you know how Pookie and I feel about ya. I suppose that's why you came all the way over here. But the fact is, we ain't gonna be around forever. Your gonna have to learn to take care of yourself. You can't go scaring what life we have left by showing up in the boarding house half dead yourself ya here."

Phil watched from the corner of his eye as the girl nodded back at him.

"Good, now I'm going to go downstairs and see what's taking Pookie so long. In the meantime, you see that pink box on the shelf? That's for you. It's supposed to be for Christmas, but I guess you could probably use it now with all of the sniffling your doing." Helga blushed, wishing that he would pretend he didn't see the stream of tears flowing from her eyes.

"It's nothing big or fancy," he continued as he stood up and made his way to the door. "So don't get your knickers in a bunch." Phil closed the door behind him as he made his exit.

Helga turned to the shelf beside the bed, swollen blue eyes finding the box immediately. Sitting and reaching up, she pulled the box from its position next to Arnold's alarm clock and ripped the lid open. Inside was a pink handkerchief, embroidered with her initials. Dabbing at her eyes, she smiled as she felt the silk against her cheek.

* * *

10-year old Helga awoke to a crashing sound coming from downstairs followed by her father's roaring response.

"What in the name of Mary… Miriam! Miriam, where are you?"

She listened for her mother's meek response, but only heard the drumming of the rain as it continuously pounded against her bedroom window. Wondering what in the world was going on, she stood up, slipped on her slippers and walked towards her bedroom door. Tentatively opening the door, Helga peeked out in time to see her father open his own door, pulling at the tie of his robe before stomping down the hallway towards the staircase. Curious as to what would cause such a loud sound, Helga followed quietly in her one-piece pink pajamas.

Her father reached the ground floor just as she made it to the top of the staircase and she watched him from the railings as he walked through the dark, now silent house, squinting in order to follow his broad figure as he moved through the foyer towards the kitchen. She was strangely unafraid, knowing that for all of Bob's neglect, he was strong and she had always felt safe from physical harm when he was near. If there was a burglar, he sure was going to get it.

She was half way down the staircase when he heard her father shout her mother's name. A sudden sense of dread filled her heart as she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, the lights temporarily blinding her. She rubbed furiously at her eyes before opening them again, and when she saw her mother's figure cradled in her father's arms on the floor next to broken pieces of glass and vomit, she regretted having ever opened her eyes in her life. She let out a piercing shriek.

The demands to call the ambulance, to get back upstairs, to get out of the way, to stay and lock up until they came back, all fell on deaf ears. Helga sat cradling herself in the corner as people piled into their home, some with stretchers, and others with badges. She was still sitting, cradling herself when they left.

She couldn't move. Her mind was blank. And then it wasn't. Then there were thousands of thoughts running through her head. What had happened? What was wrong with her mother? Was she sick? Was she dead? Her small hands clutched at her head as she tried to shake it free of all those horrendous questions. And then suddenly, she thought of Arnold.

Arnold would know what to do. Arnold would know what was going on. Arnold would save her. He saved everything, so he could save her too.

Her feet began to move on their own and before she knew it, she was soaked through in through on the fire escape outside of Arnold's room. His name escaped her lips but was drowned out by the sound of thunder. She pushed open the door to his skylight and all but through herself in, barely managing to close the door behind her and knocking over some things off the bookshelf in the process. She called his name again, and was met with silence. She rushed over to the door and flicked the switch, allowing light to flood into the room.

And that's when it hit her. Arnold couldn't save her, because Arnold was gone. Helga slumped to the floor, hair matted against her forehead as a puddle made of both rain and tears soaked the floor around her. She didn't notice the door as it opened, revealing two poorly armed elders, nor did she notice the expressions on their faces as they took in the scene before them.

But she did notice the feel of his warm hands as they place themselves on the side of her face, forcing her to look into his eyes as he told her that everything was going to be ok.

* * *

March 8th, 2006

Helga bolted forward as she reached up to catch the warmth of those hands from her dreams. Instead, her fingertips brushed against her cold, unconscious tears and she quickly began to lose hope that this wasn't her reality. Desperately, her gaze scoured the room for some hint, only to fall upon the black dress she haphazardly tossed on her chair the night before. Helga bit her lip, trying to stifle the sob that ripped at her throat.

Taking in a deep breath, she pulled off her sheets and swung her long legs onto the floor. Standing abruptly she grabbed the black dress and other articles of clothing off of the chair, snatched her towel from behind her door, pushed pass her mother in the hallway -ignoring her chipper "good morning"- and locked herself in the bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror and watched herself cry. She thought of how good it was to cry. She thought about how she wanted to drown in her own tears just to prove how much she loved him. And when she was tired of looking at her swollen red eyes, of tasting her salty tears and hearing her soft whimpers, she turned on the shower, stripped naked and sat in the bathtub hugging her knees to her chest for an hour, allowing the scalding bathwater to mix with her tears.

Phoebe had called and offered to pick her up, but Helga politely declined. Instead, she picked up the envelope off her desk and her pink handkerchief, carefully placing them both in the pocket of her pink pea coat before donning it over her black dress. She knew pink was a bright color and maybe not funeral appropriate, but it was the only coat she had and she knew Phil wouldn't want her to freeze.

Opening the door to her room, she ran down the steps, grabbed her black ankle boots and slipped her stocking feet into them. Without a word to her parents, she opened the door and stepped out into the brisk morning. The funeral home was not far from her home and she made the trip by foot rather quickly.

When she arrived, she was both surprised and relieved to see how many people had turned up to the funeral. She knew Phil had a lot of friends, so she wasn't surprised by how many adults were in the room, but rather by how many teenagers were in the room as well. When she thought about it, she guessed it made sense. Arnold had always been a popular guy, so it made sense that his friends would come and support him in his time of need.

'At least,' she thought to herself, 'I'll be less obvious this way.'

Making her way towards the home, she stopped when she noticed Gerald standing at the door greeting guests. She hesitated, setting her jaw and squaring her shoulders before pushing forward."Helga?"

"What is it tall hair boy?" Gerald flinched when he heard the venom dripping from her voice, but his back straightened as he pulled himself to his full height. He couldn't understand why Helga would come. As far as he knew she hadn't spoken to the Shortman's since fifth grade. She hadn't even spoken much to Arnold since he had come back, something he knew bugged his best friend. So why was she here and why was she so angry?

"Look Pataki, today's a day for mourning and don't for one second think that just because Phoebe's your best friend I'm going to let you in here and make a scene when…"

"Oh if it isn't Arnold's little friend. Have you come to pay your respects to the General?" Gerald watched in horror as Pookie swung an arm around Helga's shoulders but was both relieved and shock when Helga's body physically deflated, the tension leaving her jaw and shoulders immediately as she almost leaned into the old woman's arms.

"Mrs. Shortman I…"

"Now Gerald, this one here is my special guest." Helga flushed as the befuddled Gerald glanced suspiciously between the two.

"Well, if you say so…"

"Thank you dear." She smiled up at him before ushering Helga through the doors. When the two are out of earshot, Helga stopped, pulling Gertie into a corner and throwing her arms around her. Silent tears streamed down Helga's face, but when she heard the elder woman sniffle, she knew that she couldn't be selfish, at least not today.

Wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her pea coat, Helga pulled away and reached into her pocket. Pulling out her handkerchief she dabbed at Gertie's eyes. When the elderly woman stopped crying, Helga did her best to smile at her.

"Thanks for helping sneak in Gertie. I'm gonna be sitting in the back, but," she pulled the envelope from her pocket and thrust it into Gertie's hand. "Can you give this to the General for me? Think of it as one last secret mission." Gertie straightened up and grinned through her tears.

"Aye Aye, Eleanore." Helga threw her arms around the woman's small frame again, pulling her in tightly.

"Don't worry, I'm still here with you. Back pew, right hand side. Look at me if you need me." Helga bit her lip as she felt the older woman's weight slump against her body.

"Grandma? Grandma, where are you?" Helga abruptly pulled away from the older woman.

"Gertie, what should I do? I don't want him to know I'm here." Helga whispered into Gertie's ear. Her eyes shot around looking for an escape route. Gertie, understanding the young woman's feelings, patted her face before stepping out of the corner into the main hallway to meet her grandson.

He was in a black suit, and Helga couldn't help but admire how well it fit his tall frame. Feeling ashamed to have such feelings at a funeral, she shifted her focus to his face, taking in the shambled appearance of the young man she loved. His eyes were red and puffy, but his jaw was set and he was standing tall beside his grandma. She watched the two interact and she once again felt love for the boy who was trying to be strong for his grandmother, despite being broken himself.

But his demeanour changed once his parents walked over, and she noticed how he shrank from them, and into himself. Her eyes wrinkled in confusion. She couldn't understand it. Didn't he leave to be with these people?

She watched as his eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. For a moment, she was frightened that his eyes would catch hers, but she felt a mixture of both relief and jealousy as she saw him excuse himself, ambling over to greet Lila who had just arrived. Helga turned away, sneaking into the viewing room and taking a seat in the back row.

* * *

The funeral was moving, and Helga found that she was about ready to laugh just as much as she was ready to cry when hearing the stories of those who knew Phil best. When it was Gertie's turn to take the podium, Helga braced herself with every intention to hold back her tears. Gertie who was the last speaker and had miraculously managed to stay dry-eyed throughout the whole event, suddenly began to tear at the end of her speech. Her voice became willowy as she spoke her last words:"Miles, Stella, Arnold, and of course Eleanor" Helga's eyes shot up, meeting Gertie's for a brief moment, "Phil would want you all to know how much he loved all of you. You were his family, his reason for living. Miles," Helga watched as Gertie's voice cracked "You and Stella were his pride and joy and we were so blessed to have you come back to us. And Arnold" Helga glanced at the boy, sitting with his head in between his hands in the front pew, shoulders shaking. "You were the best gift a father could ever ask for. The perfect grandson. There was never a moment you weren't in his heart." And then Helga felt Gertie's piercing gaze,"And Eleanor, he was so grateful to have you in his life. You brought him so much joy."

Helga felt tears stream down her face and clutched at the handkerchief in her pocket. She watched as everyone got up for the final viewing, placing white roses in the coffin. Merging with a crowd, Helga quietly made her way up to the coffin, determined to remain discreet. Looking in she first saw the white roses, and then a single white envelope. She smiled softly as she looked from the envelope to the man with the oversized nose and protruding chin. She took in his wrinkles, trying to carve his face into her ran her fingers repeatedly over the dark wood, trying to memorise everything about this last moment and in her attempt, she lost track of how much time she stood there, not noticing the weird glances she was getting from the other guests.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she felt a thin finger brush away the tears on her cheek. She flushed, smiling weakly at Gertie before taking a deep breath as if trying to inhale everything about the moment. And then she turned away. She felt her heart clench as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, taking that first step forward. When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing there, frozen by his seat, with tears cascading down his cheeks. Suddenly she felt all the anger towards him leave her body.

She didn't know why he didn't come back sooner, but she knew it wasn't because he had forgotten the love he had for hadn't abandoned his grandparents. He still loved them. And with that knowledge, she could forgive him for leaving, because he had still loved them. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward stopping when she reached his side. Pulling out her handkerchief, she tenderly wiped the tears from his eyes before placing the handkerchief in his limp hand. She waited until she felt his fingers curl around it before pulling her hand away.

"Helga, you...I" his voice cracked and her heart ached to hold him.

"Go say goodbye Arnold." And with those words, she began moving forward, walking straight through the pews stopping only to retrieve her coat. As she was about to leave she turned once, glancing back at Arnold who was now at the casket and nodding at Gertie who was mouthing a 'thank you'.

'I should be saying thank you' she thought to herself. Stepping out of the door, she looked up at the sky and whispered "Thanks Phil, I love you."

* * *

 **AN: I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I hope it isn't too weird to have Helga so attached to Arnold's grandparents. I tried to develop a relationship between them in a realistic way by showing brief snippets of their life. What I hoped to portray is that in the 6 years since Arnold had left, Helga and Arnold's grandparents were able to fill the holes in each other's heart. I tried to use my experience losing my grandfather in this piece, so I hope I was able to bring that feeling out. I lost my grandfather in 2006 as well. Please let me know what you think. Reviews are always welcomed. I know the story can seem a little disjointed, but I'm working on putting the pieces together.**


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